My Pastor, My Dad
My dad didn’t grow up in the church. Though he came from an Italian-Catholic background, he never went to mass or church growing up nor did my grandparents. He became a Christian when I was only a year old, feeling the call to preach about 3 years later. Not certain he was really “called”, he prayed and fasted for 3 days and 3 nights, seeking the Lord for understanding. It was during that process he answered the call to ministry.
When I was 4, (my siblings 9 & 12) we left our comfortable lifestyle and sold our home. Dad left his great job in Bedford, Ohio and we moved to Lexington, where my dad pastored his first church and studied for the ministry through MVNU.
God was using a man who knew nothing of the bible or really nothing of what the church might say is meant to be a Christian. He had no prejudgments. He was simply a man willing to say yes to The Hoy Spirit of God.
Often, I would watch my dad sit at the table with His bible open & a few reference books while taking notes for his Sunday sermon. Dad spent many hours each week preparing for what God laid on his heart. He would take plain white typing paper and tear it in half. He would then hand write his sermon using the front and back of several pieces of paper.
Every Saturday for many years dad would go “calling.” This meant he would go visit people in their homes. It could be anyone- lifelong church goers to first time visitors. He just popped in uninvited to spend time talking or praying with them or inviting them back to church. He even stopped by people’s homes who families from the church would say needed a visit that he didn’t even know. Times are quite different these days. Could you imagine someone just stopping by unannounced on your Saturday?
Dad spent many hours of his life visiting people in the hospital. He also performed many baby dedications, baptisms, funerals, and weddings. He would bring many of us along on visits to the local nursing home.
Dad invested in the lives of those in the congregations. He also mentored many young men who felt the call to preach.
I am so grateful for my heritage as a pastor’s daughter. More importantly, I’m thankful for a dad who lived his life showing me and others the way to salvation. I’m thankful for a dad who I often watched reads his bible. I’m thankful for a dad I watched love others into the kingdom. He showed me the importance of reading, praying, giving, and serving. I am blessed.
Happy Father’s Day to the best dad ever. Even though your home is in heaven now, I still think of you and talk to you about everything. Oh, and thanks again for driving me to school and carrying my books. You know what I’m talking about- lol.